


Try Until You Can't

by phoenixking87



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Humor, OC, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixking87/pseuds/phoenixking87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Black has a really good memory, possibly photographic. It was what helped her get the job at SHIELD, even if it was just data entry. Except she enjoys that work, just as much as she enjoys the company of the agency's top archer. And when her past comes back while on a mission in the field, she has to learn to cope with more than Clint flirting with her. Clint/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post this here as well as Fanfiction.net, simply because why not? 
> 
> This is my first time posting to this site, and I'm slightly nervous about doing it. I hope you enjoy it!  
> Whooo boy. This is my first Avenger fic ever that I'm publishing ever. And I'm nervous! Anyways. This is MCU based for the most part, as that is what I know most about. I wrote another story for another fandom a few years ago and one thing I was told was that I made the story go by too fast, so with this one, I tried to keep it slow. I actually have the story completed and most of it posted to Fanfiction.net, so it will be posted in full here as well.
> 
> This takes place about three months before the first Avengers film. It's Clint/OFC and even Natasha/OFC. And while writing this, I watched a lot of Parks and Recreation, so some of the humor might follow that, I'm not sure. I hope y'all like it for the most part, and I'd love comments or even nicely put constructive criticism.
> 
> There's swearing in this. No sex, but they mention it and talk about it. But there's just swearing. That's the biggest reason for the rating.
> 
> Anyways. Here we go.

**Chapter One**

 

Agent Remy Black slowly typed away at her computer, glancing every so often at the piece of paper she was copying. Whenever she paused, her office mate, Agent Mara Davis, would also stop typing, to which Remy would start back up again, a grin on her face. She knew Mara would yell at her if she even stopped to crack her knuckles or sip her coffee, so Remy enjoyed this game of pausing for a few seconds before starting back up again. It drove her office mate absolutely crazy, but it was one of the only ways Remy could get entertainment in this windowless room.

 

After two hours of Remy pausing every five or more seconds, Mara huffed angrily and spun around in her chair to face the younger agent. “Agent Black, if you don't st-”

 

“Hm? I can't hear you over my typing, Agent Davis.” Remy teased as she typed away. She could hear Mara huff angrily again as she returned to her work. Grinning, Remy work for over 20 minutes without pauses until she finished the form. After saving the document, she picked up another form and did a quick survey of the room. There was still several dozen boxes to go through. Why Fury decided now was a good time to start electronically archiving old documents and not back when SHIELD started to fully use computers, Remy wasn't sure, but she was pretty happy to do it. This was the kind of work Remy enjoyed – repetitive, data entry type work.

 

Mara, however, was not happy. She fussed about it to the director, to Agent Hill, and to any one who listened. She didn't understand why she was stuck in the office working with Remy when she could be doing other things. Remy didn't complain, as she enjoyed data entry work like this. Mara was pretty sure her office mate was crazy.

 

As Remy typed up the new form, she began her game again. This time, her pauses would be longer than a few seconds, often going onto 10 seconds or more. Every time she heard the chair swivel, Remy would start typing again.

 

Finally after another hour of this, Mara finally stood up from her desk and marched over to her. “Young lady, if you do not stop this-”

 

“Stop what? Working?” Remy asked, looking innocent as she finished entering another form. She didn't dare look at the older agent due to the fear that Remy would burst into laughter from the whole thing. Mara glared at her and returned to her desk. Remy sighed loudly and pulled her phone out, taking a quick break to check something before she returned to her work.

 

They had been at this only for a week. Remy could sense the other agent was getting to her breaking point of working in close quarters with her. She couldn't help it. Remy enjoyed putting a little bit of fun into her work life at SHIELD. Before being marooned to this office, she was often swapping terrible jokes with Coulson whenever he was around, or asking Clint Barton to hit targets with rubber bands (she owed him about $20 in winnings at this point). And now that she had an office mate, she couldn't resist having a bit of fun, even though Mara was pretty close to murdering her.

 

Remy finished another form and set it aside. She stretched out and spun around in her chair to face Mara, who was doing her best to ignore Remy. “So. We still got like, four dozen boxes to go through. How many sheets of paper do you think that is?”

 

“I have nightmares thinking about it.” Mara grumbled as she finished one form. “If we stop talking and keep working, we will be done before the date the director gave us.” It was a hint, that much Remy could tell, but it wasn't threatening or anything for once. “So put your phone away or whatever it is that keeps distracting you and get back to work. I don't want to be here forever doing this.”

 

“Yea, true.” Remy sighed as she spun back to face her computer. “I mean, we could keep working. We only have four dozen boxes. God, think of how many trees were destroyed for these forms.”

 

“Make it 10 dozen.” A voice said. Both women looked up, faces expressionless as Agent Clint Barton walked in with a hand truck holding six boxes. When they saw the boxes, Mara looked murderous while Remy grinned. “Boxes, that is. Not 10 dozen trees.”

 

“More boxes?” She asked excitedly, bouncing a bit in her seat. Clint rolled his eyes at her excitement. “This is as good as a marriage proposal, Agent Barton.”

 

“Try to contain your excitement, you nerd.” He replied, his tone teasing as he began to unload the six he had. “There's more agents with more hand trucks that have more boxes. These were discovered in another location's basement in New York, so Fury wanted them sent straight to you so you both could start entering in the data.”

 

“When does he expect this to be completed then? By next year?!” Mara demanded, glaring at Clint. He felt a little intimidated by her glare and made sure to keep a stack of boxes between them. “And why does he want all of this entered now? This is ridiculous – he needs to realize this is not the way to go about this type of work!”

 

“I don't know, I'm assuming in the next few months?” Clint replied as he took a step back towards the door. “Try asking Fury. I'm just here to help deliver the goods, not give answers.” He turned his attention to Remy. “Hey, you still owe me twenty bucks.”

 

Remy sighed dramatically. “I knowwww. I just lost twenty betting on my team winning a match last Saturday. We lost, so I lost the twenty I would have given you.”

 

“I mean, if you wanna throw another twenty in, I'll let you watch me fire rubber bands at Hill next time we have a meeting...” Clint said with a shrug. Remy grinned. “That is, if you're free during that time. She seems to like you, so she would welcome having you in the meeting. Me? She keeps her eyes on me because she knows I'm up to no good.”

 

“Well, you are always fun to watch in action. And Agent Hill is always enjoyable during meetings.” She replied, leaning back into her seat. “Though you lose that twenty if she notices you and puts you on desk duty. Oh, and you throw in buying me a drink next time we go out.”

 

Clint mulled it over for a moment before nodding. “Sounds good to me. Another twenty if I win, and if I fail, I give you back the twenty and buy you a drink.” He repeated as he grabbed hold of the hand truck. “I'll let the rest of the guys in. Ladies, I will see you later.” And with that, he bowed out and left, leaving the two alone.

 

And he was right about the boxes. Hand truck after hand truck came in, agents delivering boxes upon boxes. It wasn't long until there was a fortress of them, which Remy was certain would crumble and cover them both in papers. The boxes were stacked eight high and were pushed against the walls, barely leaving any room for them to escape the office if needed. It was ridiculous how many were now in there, and Remy was starting to wonder if Fury had some devious plan to barricade them in there.

 

“This doesn't seem safe.” Remy grumbled as she took to re-stacking all the boxes. Mara kept to her seat, watching the younger agent work. “God, it's like that Poe story, _The Cask of Amontillado_.” Remy started making a new stack of boxes, trying to lessen the chance of death by falling boxes. “' _The_ _thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge._ ' Seriously, we are Fortunato in this scenerio and Fury is the one hiding us behind the wall.”

 

“Well, that was fun to watch.” The older woman said, eyebrow raised as she surveyed Remy, who turned to look at the older agent. “The tension between you and Agent Barton, not the creepy quoting of Poe.”

 

“Tension?” Remy repeated, frowning as she made sure the boxes wouldn't fall. “Agent Barton and I are on good terms, there was no tension.” She paused. “But yes, Poe is creepy. Especially _The Cask of Amontillado_. Ever read it? It's bizarre.”

 

“Oh, honey, stop talking about Poe and talk about Barton.” Replied Mara as she got up to help her. “There was so much sexual tension between you two and it was so thick I thought I was going to be crushed by it.”

 

Remy's cheeks reddened as she hastily tried to stop a box from falling on them. “Oh, well, I don't know what you're talking about. We just get along really well, that's all.”

 

“Mm. Sexual. _Tension._ ” Mara said, emphasizing each word as she returned to her desk after moving only three boxes. “Incredibly thick. I thought I was going to suffocate. The flirting was enough to make me sick.”

 

“Still don't know what you mean.” Remy grumbled as she returned to her desk. “I don't think I want any more office romances. They get awkward really, really fast.” She retrieved a new form and looked it over. “I'll stick to watching a lot of soccer and having imaginary relationships with the attractive players.” Remy started to type again, not realizing she was rambling so much. “Besides, I don't think I'm his type, so sorry, I won't flirt with him in front of you.”

 

Mara rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I hope you learn to flirt by the time he stops by again. Otherwise I'll do the flirting for you.”

 

Remy tried not to be horrified at the thought as she continued her work.

 

* * *

 

Clint showed up again the next day with a few more boxes. Mara huffed angrily, but she kept any comments she had to herself. Remy looked up from her desk when he arrived, a pen in her mouth as she typed away on her computer.

 

“Can you really type without looking?” He asked as he dropped the boxes on the floor next to her desk. He leaned over her shoulder, watching her type. “How are you not screwing up?”

 

“Oh, I got skills.” Remy replied, still looking at him as she typed. “Also a really good memory, and so I know what the form says so when I'm typing, I don't have to look at it so much.”

 

Clint nodded slowly as he moved to lean onto her desk instead of her chair. “So, a photographic memory or something?”

 

“Something, yea. I don't think it's photographic...”

 

“Oh, it is.” Mara jumped in, smirking. “She really has a photographic memory, Clint. Just watch.” Remy eyed her office mate suspiciously. “Agent Black, the first time you met Agent Barton, what was he wearing?”

 

Clint raised an eyebrow and looked at Remy, who was red in the face. Mara was still smirking at her, and Remy had to wonder what the other agent was trying to get out of this. Straightening up in her seat, Remy closed her eyes for a moment before she looked back at Mara.

 

“Track pants and running shoes, but no shirt.” She recited. “I was in the gym with Agent Rumlow, who was trying to help me with some stretches to alleviate some back pain. We ran into Agent Barton, who was finishing up a run on the indoor track, and I didn't know who he was so Rumlow introduced us.”

 

“Wow. That was, what, five years ago, wasn't it? Didn't you just start with SHIELD?” Clint said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Mm. You had just come back from some mission and you had a black eye.” Remy added with a nod. “You told me some old lady sucker punched you after you bumped into her on the street while you were pursuing your target.”

 

Mara laughed. “See? There's more crazy details she remembers. Like, what did he smell like?”

 

“Ew, sweat, obviously.” Remy said, wrinkling her nose. Mara raised an eyebrow and Remy sighed. “And Old Spice.”

 

“Okay, but isn't it just common for folks to remember that sort of thing when they first meet someone?” Clint asked, looking skeptical. “I mean, I remember what you were wearing. You had a bright orange sports bra on under that white t-shirt you were wearing.” He looked her over for a moment. “Besides, isn't that photographic memory thing sort of just a weird pop culture obsession?”

 

“Okay, fine.” Remy now felt a challenge, and she wasn't about to back down. “I can recall every form I've entered since starting this project last week. Want to test me? Grab a random form and just give me the entry number. I'll even close my eyes.”

 

Clint shook his head. “Nah, I don't have the time. I gotta be somewhere in a few minutes.”

 

“Understandable.” Remy grumbled as she returned to her work.

 

“Anyways, I may need to take you up on that memory thing, though. Maybe when we go out for drinks with everyone later this week?” He suggested.

 

Remy shrugged. “Yea, don't see why not.”

 

“Sounds like a plan then.” And with that, Clint headed out.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It was two weeks before Remy saw Clint again. They never went out for drinks after that conversation, as he had been called away on a mission, and she opted out of joining some of the strike team for drinks. She was alone in the office this morning, having been told by Fury via email that Mara was returning to accounting effective immediately, and that Remy's new partner would be joining her around lunch time. However, Fury made no mention of who her new partner was. With a loud, overly dramatic sigh, she checked her watch. It was only 10am, and lunch was usually around noon. She had plenty of time to just laze around in the office until her new partner showed. 

Humming some nonsense to herself, Remy pulled her hair back, messily braiding it before she checked herself over in her compact. She wasn't too concerned about looking professional in this office, given that there were never any visitors to look impressive for. Fury checked in on them via email, while Coulson and Hill were the only ones to stop by, but even that was rare. Remy was fine with being left alone for now.

Sighing, she looked herself over before buttoning her blouse back up. The damned buttons always came loose whenever she moved her arms, and Remy was tempted to decorate herself in safety pins to keep it closed. The last thing she wanted to do was buy another blouse in the next size up to accommodate her bust, but she was starting to think that it was inevitable. Since joining SHIELD five years prior, she had lost about 20 pounds, but none of that weight left her chest. She was still roughly a size 14 even after the weight loss, and while her size didn't bother her, the offhand comments from other agents did.

“Aw, fuck. I made myself sad.” She mumbled to herself. Shaking her head, she picked up a form and pulled up the program, humming loudly to herself now as she began to type. Now that she had no Mara to annoy, Remy was perfectly happy to get the work done at a steady pace.

She worked for the two hours straight, only stopping when her wrists started to cramp. When she checked her watch, it was now a quarter after 12. Her new office mate should be arriving any minute now. 

An angry voice outside of the room caught her attention. That must be her new partner. Remy stood up, made sure her blouse was still buttoned, and fixed her skirt before approaching the door. She was expecting another woman, or maybe a fresh faced agent who didn't know what to expect. Yet, there he stood, arm in a sling and several scratches on his face. 

Clint Barton did not look happy, and he was angrily telling Coulson so.

“I can still go into the field.” Clint argued as he stubbornly stayed outside the office. “I can fire a gun one handed. I don't need to be stuck at a desk!”

“The doctor won't clear you for duty, Agent Barton.” Coulson informed him. There was a sort of finality to his tone. “You are to help Agent Black with entering in these forms into the SHIELD database until you are allowed to return to the field. You will listen to whatever she has to tell you in regards to the process of what's being done in here, understand?”

Remy stayed where she stood, staring at Clint, looking confused. “He's my new office mate?” She asked, turning to Coulson.

“Gee, thanks for sounding so excited.” Clint snapped. Remy rolled her eyes at that.

“Yes, I'm sorry you get to put up with his childish behavior.” Coulson said, smiling a bit. “He's not thrilled with being cooped up like this, so try not to kill him on the first day. I'm thinking it's just the pain from his injury, as he's normally not this moody.”

Clint was sulking, staring moodily at the floor as he shuffled into the office. He passed her and immediately claimed the vacant desk behind her, grumbling to himself. Remy looked at the broken marksman for a moment before looking back at Coulson.

“Permission to swat him with a rolled up newspaper if he annoys me?” She pleaded. To her delight, Coulson nodded, a smile on his face. 

“Permission granted. Just don't break him further. We will need him back in the field when he's fully healed.” Coulson teased. When he turned to Clint, he was serious. “Play nice, Agent Barton. And get work done. Listen to whatever Agent Black has to tell you. She will let me know if you aren't cooperating.” Without awaiting a response, he left, heading back down the hallway. 

Remy snorted and looked back at Clint. The other agent was on the computer, having pulled up Minesweeper. He was focused on that, clicking away at the screen as he tried to ignored her.

“Okay, I don't know how you broke yourself, but I am gonna make you work in here.” She informed him as she returned to her seat. Clint grunted in response. Rolling her eyes, Remy rolled her chair over to him, purposefully bumping her chair into his. “Okay, this is what we're doing.” She reached around him and took control of the mouse, exiting the game and bringing up the data program. She walked him through the steps of entering the information in, how they were labeling the file, and which document files they were being saved too. The explanation took longer than Remy was hoping, as Clint was pretending to fall asleep halfway through.

After swatting him on the back of the head, Remy finished up the explanation and rolled back over to her desk. She was wondering if this was how Mara felt working with her and the game of 'pause every five seconds to get her to almost yell'. However, Clint had only been there 20 minutes, and Remy did like him, so she hoped it wouldn't be terrible.

She glanced back at him, making sure he was actually working before she began her own document. They worked in silence, the only sound was the typing on the keyboard. She could hear the slow typing from his computer, and she figured that the broken arm slowed him down. Remy glanced back at him again, her fingers never leaving the keyboard as she typed. He hadn't said much since he came in, and she was pretty curious about what happened.

“So, did you get attacked on a mission or something?” She asked as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. She quickly fixed a few typos as she awaited his response. “Or did a kid break your arm when you knocked their ice cream cone to the ground?”

Clint sighed heavily and leaned back from the computer, shaking his head. “I really don't want to talk about it right now.” 

“Wow, okay. I thought you field agents loved talking about your injuries from the field. Figured it was some sort of badge of honor type thing.” She teased lightly, spinning around in her chair to face him. “I mean, when Agent Rumlow got a broken nose, he wouldn't stop telling me about it for weeks. And apparently he only got said broken nose when someone opened a door in his face.” She pulled out a new form and looked it over. “It was only after I suggested he let me add a black eye to the mix that he stopped talking about it.”

Clint snorted. “Bet he liked that.”

“Pretty sure he did, because he offered to buy me a drink if I did it.” Remy replied with a shrug. “Didn't work out, though. The guy is very, very hot, but eh.”

“Wow, 'eh'? Him?” Clint asked, grinning as he turned his attention to her. “He doesn't strike me as the type to just be 'eh'.”

“Well, okay.” Remy spun her chair around in a full rotation before stopping. “He was amazing until he casually – and I use that term lightly, suggested that I start exercising with him every morning at 6 am. Six in the damn morning.” She shuddered. “It was almost like he was proposing marriage.”

“Ouch. That's early.”

“Damn right.” Remy said, shaking her head. “I don't mind exercising, but that's far to early for me. So I sent him to the showers and went on with my life.” She glanced at Clint. “I mean, he wasn't trying to be an asshole about, y'know, my size and all, he generally wanted a work out buddy in the morning. I can't keep up with that kind of lifestyle.” 

Clint shook his head, grinning. “Sounded like a good decision. Early morning exercise is killer.” He replied as he returned to his screen, typing slowly. “God, how many forms are there? I've done two. I feel like I've been here all week.”

“There's a lot of forms we have to re-enter into electronic form.” Remy told him, sighing. “All these papers date back to the early formation of SHIELD, and while they are just things like bank statements and injury reports, they are important for records, and Fury wants them to be accessible through the digital archives. Why he chose now to do it, and why this didn't start to happen during the time SHIELD was starting to rely more heavily on computers and stuff, I have no idea.” She shrugged. “But we still have a lot of boxes. They keep coming from different bases, kind of like when you delivered us those 10 dozen a few weeks ago.”

“Yea, I was pretty sure your partner was going to murder me for that.” He said as he finished up his form. “I honestly feared for my life when I saw her glare.”

“That glare is terrifying, isn't it?” She agreed, shaking her head. 

Clint hummed in response and they returned to typing. He was going to be working with her for many weeks now, and he felt he was going to be driven crazy by the repetition of the process. Resisting a groan, he sank back into his chair and typed.

“So, can I ask why you chose being a desk type agent instead of a field one?” Clint asked, looking over at her. He could see her tense up at the question, as though awaiting an attack from him. When she didn't respond, he tried again. “Do you prefer typing things instead of shooting things?”

“Basically, yes.” She said, her voice tight. “I don't enjoy guns. I mean, I know how to use it and I will use it if needed, but that's not my main goal. I just like the office work SHIELD has to offer, and it's always interesting to see the reports on missions that come through.”

“You read those?”

“When I'm not typing up old, outdated forms that should have been shredded long ago, Fury has me type up the missions that come in from agents.” She said, shrugging. “And like I said, I enjoy desk work. Decent hours, wages, and I get to keep track of my team when they play, so it's nice to be home to watch matches.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Plus, being fucked over a desk is far sexier and cleaner than being fucked against a tree outdoors.”

He did not just hear that. “Wait what?”

“You heard me.” She said. What was said was so casual you would have thought they were discussing the weather. Clint studied her for a moment, trying to figure her out just by staring at her. Remy turned to look at him, leaning back in her chair with her hands resting on her stomach. “I'm not repeating myself, Agent Barton.”

Clint nodded slowly and looked back at his computer. Well, with that thought in his mind, how was he going to concentrate now? 

“I didn't freak you out, did I?” She asked. 

“No, not at all.” He replied, clicking random spots on the screen with his mouse. “I just did not expect that answer, but I have to admit, it's a good one.” Clint sighed and pushed his keyboard away. “This is a nightmare. My vision is going to be shot from staring at these screens for so long.”

Remy shrugged. “Then take some ten minute breaks when you start to go cross eyed. I think Fury would hate for you to damage your vision from this task.” She told him. “And seriously, take breaks. I'm not as hard nosed as Agent Davis was, so if you get up to stretch your legs or stop your eyes from crossing, then I'm fine with that.”

“You won't hit me with a rolled up newspaper if I duck out of here for a few minutes?” He asked jokingly, looking over at her. “I mean, I wouldn't mind it under the right circumstances, but I don't think we should do it in the office.” 

“Agent Barton, I didn't think you were into that kind of stuff.” She replied, grinning. This conversation was incredible, and she only hoped no one would walk in on them talking like this. A small part of her just wanted Barton to remain in the office with her until all of the work was done, but she knew that the moment he was cleared by a doctor, he would be back out into the field, leaving Remy alone with a new agent to work with until the job was done or the agent was replaced. 

“Well, Agent Black, there's a lot you don't know about me.”


	3. Chapter Three

** C hapter Three **

 

They worked well together for the first week, entering the forms and cracking jokes together,  as well as the occasional flirting . Clint had brought coffee for them both starting on the third day, to which Remy was happy to pour half a cup of sugar into before she deemed it drinkable. Just watching her do it made Clint shudder,  but he was curious how she could drink it now.  The drink literally had to be half sugar at that point, and Clint wondered if that was normal for her.

 

“It's drinkable.”  Was all s he had told him as she took a sip,  noticing the look he was giving her . Clint made a gagging noise and sipped his black coffee. “Oh, come on. I'm spoiled and used to extremely delicious coffee, so I gotta make this drinkable. Though the gesture is touching.”

 

“Next time I'll fly to where ever your fancy coffee comes from then.” Clint retorted, rolling his eyes. “I didn't realize you were the  damned Queen of Coffee.  You need a crown or something with that inscribed  on it . ”

 

Remy grinned,  looking thoughtful at the title as she took another sip of her coffee. “Yea, that sounds like the perfect title for me.”

 

When Remy came in the next day, Clint was already there. On her desk was a mug that read 'Queen of Coffee' on i t, with a disposable coffee cup next to it. She smiled and poured the coffee into the mug, making sure to add enough sugar into it before taking a sip.  She could hear Clint's groan of disgust once she was done.

 

Now they were starting their second week together and Clint was practically clawing at the walls to get out.  He would get up, step out of the office and take a quick walk to the other end of the hall, then return. Clint kept moving around in his chair as well, trying to get comfortable. She tried to cut him some slack, knowing he wasn't used to this kind of work, and  Remy  managed to  ignore him for the first four hours, but when lunch rolled around, she rolled her chair over to him, knocking into his chair.

 

“Okay, caged bird, let's leave and get lunch  outside of the building .” She said  briskly as she stood up. After kicking her chair back to her desk, she grabbed Clint by his uninjured arm and began to pull him, chair and all, towards the door.

 

“Fine, fine, I can walk, you know!” He grumbled as he knocked her arm away before getting to  his feet. She just grinned at him as she retrieved her purse and jacket. Sighing, he followed her out of the office and down the hall, making their way out of the building. Once they were outside, Clint took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sun.  She shook her head and led him to the car park where her vehicle was. Once they were in, Clint immediately fiddled with the radio, trying to find a station to listen too.

 

Remy drove from the complex, batting at his hand when he wouldn't leave the dial alone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you hated working with me in that office.” She teased as they passed the security gates, heading to the main street. “Am I that awful to work with?”

 

“S'not you.” He said as he resumed his mission of finding some decent music. “I just don't like sitting at a desk. I like to be moving.” Once he finally found a song he liked, he turned the volume up and sat back in his seat. “I mean, if I was working with someone else in that office, they probably would have murdered me by now, but I do like working with you.”

 

“Aw, shucks. You're gonna make me blush.” Remy said as she drove. “ Yea, if Agent Davis  had been stuck with you, I imagine  you would have been murdered already.  Pretty sure we'd be finding your body parts in various parts of the building. ” 

 

“ That's a very morbid thought, Agent Black.” Clint teased. “How do I know you aren't planning to do that to me if I drive you crazy?” 

 

“Uh, hello, I'm going to hit you with a newspaper when you drive me crazy.” She retorted, shaking her head as she drove. “ I decided your punishment with Coulson, remember?”

 

They drove in silence  for the rest of the way until Remy found a parking spot. Clint realized they  never decide d where to eat, but Remy seemed to have a general idea where to go, and he obediently followed her from her car and down the sidewalk until she came upon a diner. Clint held the door open for her and she gave him a smile before making her way to a booth in the back of the diner. He followed after her, glancing around before he took a seat.

 

“Quaint place.” He commented as he shrugged his jacket off. Remy smiled and nodded in agreement.

 

“Isn't it? I love it here.” She said, still smiling. “Good food, good atmosphere, and the staff are amazing.”

 

A waiter brought them each a glass of water and menu before walking off to check on other customers. Remy pushed her menu aside and sipped her water, watching Clint. He glanced at her occasionally as he studied the menu.

 

“Okay, kind of feel like you're silently judging me.” He commented as he looked over the burger selection. “What do you suggest  I eat?”

 

“A burger and fries. They are delicious here.” Remy told him, licking her lips. “I'm getting the mushroom swiss burger and sweet potato fries. Totally worth it.”

 

Clint nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

 

The waiter came back around and took their orders before dashing off again. Remy leaned back and sipped her water, watching Clint carefully.

 

“I'm still curious about how you broke yourself.”

 

“Still don't want to talk about it.”

 

Remy frowned. “Did something bad happen  on a mission ?”

 

Clint looked at his cast. “It didn't happen  on a mission .” He grumbled, not meeting her gaze. Remy's eyes widened and she grinned.

 

“Oh my god, did you like, help a little old lady cross the street and get hit by a car or something?” She asked, sounding far to amused by his pain. Clint shut his eyes and counted to 10. He really didn't want to talk about it, but he knew she would bug him until he spoke.

 

“Okay, okay. I'll tell you, but this doesn't leave the table, understand?” He said, sounding vaguely threatening. She nodded and pretended to zip her lips. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. “This is what happened. The other night, I was helping my neighbor change the light bulbs in her bathroom. She's old, like, 89 or something, so she was in no position to do it so she asked me. I don't mind, it's something to do.” He took a sip of his water. “So I'm balancing on this rickety chair, and she has like, a dozen cats at least. And one of them decided to attack my leg while I'm on this rickety chair. And the next thing I remember after that was waking up in the hospital with my arm in a sling.”

 

Remy stared at him, her mouth open. Clint watched her as he continued. “They said I dislocated my shoulder and broke my arm. And another cat attacked my face.”  She let out a snort. “Don't you laugh. Don't you  _dare_ laugh.”  He looked threatening, but now that she knew how he got the scratches on her face, she couldn't even take him seriously now.

 

She clapped her hand over her mouth, face going red. It was difficult, and she was doing what she could, but Remy could only contain herself for so long before she erupted into loud, obnoxious laughter.  Other patrons in the diner turned to look at the two while Clint covered his face in embarrassment. She pounded her fist on the table as she laughed, letting it go on for a few minutes before she tried to contain herself.

 

“Yea, that's it. Laugh at my pain.” He grunted, pouting as he rubbed his shoulder. “I could have died.  The paramedics apparently found me unconscious in the bathtub with a cat on my face.”

 

“But... but you didn't  die !” Remy exclaimed between giggles. “You got taken out by a  _cat_ !” 

 

Clint grumbled, sinking down into his seat. “Look, if you tell anyone, I'll have Natasha deal with you.  She can and will make you disappear if I ask her. Even Coulson won't know where you are.”

 

“Oh, honey, don't worry.” She said, giggling. “I won't tell a soul. Your cat story is safe with me.”  She hiccuped, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I don't want to be on Agent Romanoff's shit list.”

 

Clint wasn't sure if he believed her,  but he stayed quiet. All the while, Remy continued to giggle as she slowly calmed herself down.

 

* * *

 

By the time they returned to the office, two hours had gone by. Thankfully they were left to their own devices for the most part, with only the occasional email check in from Fury. Clint sat at his computer and began to enter in a new form, this time moving a bit faster than he had been previously. Remy went to work at her own desk, entering in three forms for every one that Clint did.  They didn't speak for the first hour  after  they returned, as they wanted to make up for the lost hour. Both were so focused on their work they didn't hear the knock at the door.

 

“You actually got him doing desk work.” Came Coulson's voice. Remy jumped, hands slapping her desk as she looked up.

 

“Dammit, don't sneak up like that!” She hissed, glaring at him. Coulson merely shrugged.

 

“I knocked a minute before I said a word.” He replied evenly. “You two were working to hard to hear me.”  He cocked his head to the side, giving Remy a look.  “ And you should cut back on the coffee if you're this jumpy, Agent Black.” 

 

She stuck her tongue out at him in response and turned back to her computer screen.

 

“ Are you here to free me?” Clint asked hopefully, looking up from his desk. Coulson shook his head and Clint grumbled, returning to his work. 

 

“I only came to check on your progress.” Coulson said, leaning into the door frame. “And to make sure you aren't going to kill me when I tell you that another 10 dozen boxes were found in another base outside of New Mexico. Fury wants those entered too.”

 

Clint gave him a murderous look while Remy just frowned. “Okay, normally that sounds exciting to me, but where the hell are these all coming from? Seriously now.” She  asked as she  gestured to the boxes around the office. “And either you guys find a place to stash those boxes  while we go through the lot we already have , or Fury upgrades our office to one that  is bigger and has windows that give us a view of the city. I'm pretty sure this guy is going to cut his own damn window into a wall if he doesn't see natural sunlight while he's in here.”

 

Clint nodded in agreement as he typed away. “ Yep. Can't work under these conditions.”

 

“I'll see what I can do.” Coulson replied,  rolling his eyes  as he left. 

 

Clint groaned and slumped back in his chair. “This is torture. Absolute torture.” He whined, pushing the keyboard away. “I can't do this anymore.”

 

“Oh, come on now. This cannot be the worse thing you've ever  been through .” Remy said, shaking her head. “It's not that bad. And who knows, we could get a new office. Or, rather, I'll get a new office that I'll share with these rotating agents.”  She placed the finished form back into the box before retrieving a new one. “What gets me is that we're doing this all by hand, but I assume that there's some crazy technology out there that someone could use to hack into a damn scanner and have the files doubled or something.”

 

“ Why the hell would someone want these files?” Clint complained as he pushed away from his desk. “Aren't they just expense reports and receipts?”

 

“ And injury reports.” Remy added  with a shrug. “I'm sure Fury has some reason for wanting the m archived electronically like this, but I want to know where the hell these are all coming from. It's quite ridiculous that as soon as we get down to about three dozen or so  boxes , another ten dozen are added to the mix.”

 

Clint groaned in frustration as he slid out of his chair and onto the floor. Remy carefully moved her chair to keep from running him over as she peered down at him. “Better not look up my skirt, Barton. And stop being so dramatic. I'll send an email to Fury with my request.” He nodded slowly and looked up at her, only to immediately look away. “Oh, you looked up my skirt, didn't you? Pervert.”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

** C hapter Four **

 

Two days went by  since Coulson checked in on them,  meaning it was now Friday . Remy had sent an email request to Fury about changing offices,  but she hadn't heard back from him. While Clint was still sulky about the situation, Remy did notice that he wasn't as grumpy as he had been when he first arrived  in the office . She hoped maybe he was accepting of his fate  and that he would increase production a bit. She was up to getting five forms completed for every two he did, and she hoped that he could increase his typing speed before someone uncovered another collection of boxes.

 

Both arrived at the office at the same time, Clint with coffee for the two of them and Remy with two doughnuts,  both relieved it was the end of the week . She set one on Clint's desk before retreating to her own, checking her email for anything important. There was an email from Hill, saying there was a meeting that she needed Remy to attend today at 10 AM, and an email from Fury, saying there new forms coming their way. That was it, nothing about what the forms were or where they were coming from, just that there were more coming their way.  He didn't even bring up the request for an office change.  She groaned and slumped back in her chair. 

 

Something hit her in the back of the head. She swiveled around in her chair to face her attacker. Clint was looking innocent as he threw another crumpled piece of paper at her. Glaring, she caught the paper ball midair and tossed it back to him.

 

“Hey, you can't get frustrated with your work.” Clint scolded, shaking his finger at her. “You being excited about this crap is the reason it's bearable to come here every day.”

 

She rolled her eyes and sat up straight in her chair. “Thanks, but I have a meeting with Agent Hill at ten, so it's going to be miserable in here without me.” She retorted. “Try to get stuff done without me, okay? I don't know how long the meeting is or what it's about.”

 

“ Do you have to leave?” Clint asked, pouting at her. “I'd hate for production to go down without the most active member of the team here to lead the charge.”

 

She rolled her eyes again and sighed  loudly . “You are such a dork.” She  announced as she swiveled back to her desk. “You need to get to work, mister, and so do I. And then you will keep working even while I'm gone to this mysterious meeting.” Sighing, she pulled up the program and began to type. “Who knows, maybe this is all a ploy to get rid of me and replace me with someone else in here.”

 

“Oh god, don't say that. You're the only reason I haven't hung myself since being stuck on desk duty.” Clint groaned, throwing another paper ball at her. This one got caught in her hair. “If it comes to that, I'll become your assistant or something. Anything to not be stuck in here.”

 

She tried to keep from grinning to much as she brushed the paper ball out of her hair. Oh, he liked having her around then? That was nice to hear. “Well, best hope that's not the case then. Who knows, she might want me taking notes during the meeting.  I mean, she didn't say what it was about, just that I needed to be there at ten .” She retrieved a sticky note and began to fold it into a paper crane,  which she promptly tossed at Clint once she was done .  He caught it and set it next to his monitor. “But while I'm gone, you really gotta work, man. I know you hate it, but I really need you to get through as many of these things as you can, okay?”

 

Shrugging, Clint threw another ball of paper at her. “I guess, if I have too.” He said with a sigh. “I'll do what I can to dredge through this crap.”

 

“Aw, thanks. Now get to work.” She retorted, knocking the ball out of the way before turning back to her screen. She could hear Clint mumbling to himself and then the sounds of  the keyboard. After a minute of sitting there, she retrieved a form and began to copy it into the computer.

 

* * *

 

About a quarter til ten, Remy got up from her desk. She patted Clint on the shoulder before leaving the office, shutting the door behind her. Agent Hill had told her to go to the 31 st floor conference room, which was insane. Remy was on the 5 th floor, and so that was quite a ways to go. Sighing, she approached the elevator and pressed the up button,  wishing she brought her coffee. She had no idea what to expect from this meeting, but she might fall asleep if it's incredibly boring.

 

After a few minutes, the elevator arrived and she climbed inside. She selected the 31 st floor, but figured the trip would take longer with other agents getting on and off it as it climbed the floors. It was inevitable that there could be other agents at this meeting,  and Remy tried to think of what it could be about. 

 

The elevator stopped at the 16 th floor, where a few agents climbed on board. They nodded to Remy and she nodded back, even though she knew  one of  them by name only, but not what they did. That was the thing she was not overly fond of SHIELD – the amount of people working for the agency. Remy would have liked to have known most of the people she worked with, but given that there were agents everywhere, she knew it was impossible. Granted, she knew a nice number of them, but it seemed like every day, after five years at SHIELD, she was always meeting someone new.

 

At the 23 rd floor,  all of the agents left,  but one climbed on. This time, she recognized  the agent . Agent Brock Rumlow nodded politely at her as he stepped into the elevator. She smiled back, keeping close to the elevator control panel. 

 

“So, which floor?” She asked  jokingly , hand raised and ready to push a button. She had been nice and done it for the other agents as well, and some of them had tipped her a few dollars, which she wasn't sure if she should be flattered or offended by it. She was trying to be nice, but she wasn't an official SHIELD elevator operator if that's what they thought. Remy ended up pocketing the money anyways. 

 

“31st floor.”  He replied, arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Got a meeting with Agent Hill about an upcoming mission.”

 

Remy looked up. “Oh? That's where I'm headed.”

 

“Huh. Did you suddenly become an operative or something?” He teased, raising an eyebrow. “I have to say, I'd love to see  you take out a horde of angry vigilantes .  It'd be kind of hot. ”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him as the elevator continued to rise up. It felt like eternity, but by Remy's watch it had only been 12 minutes  since she first climbed on the elevator . She had three minutes to get to the conference room, and she didn't want to be late. When the elevator finally stopped on the 31 st floor, she and Brock stepped off, heading down the hall to the room.  They walked in silence, and when they arrived at the room, Brock held the door open for her, letting her inside first. Remy gave him a polite smile and stepped towards the large conference table. Agent Hill was already seated at one end of it, looking over papers.  There were two other agents present – one Remy vaguely recognized and another was someone she had never seen before.

 

Remy took the free seat next to Agent Hill, giving the other woman a questioning look. Brock sat next to her, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded back across his chest.

 

“Glad you two could make it.” Hill said as she passed out folders to all of them. Remy took her folder and flipped it open, raising an eyebrow at what she saw.  While s he appreciated that Agent Hill brought her onto this meeting, but Remy still was wondering what she was doing there.

 

She looked over the folder, flipping through the pages. It was the blueprints of a building – an old one, actually. Remy thought it could be late 19 th century, maybe early 20 th . It was an American infrastructure, that much she was able to tell, and the fact that there was  the name of an American  city written on the top right hand corner of it gave it away as well.

 

“Agent Hill?” Remy asked, holding her hand up. Agent Hill turned to her, raising an eyebrow. Remy took that as a sign to speak. “While I'm completely flattered and in awe to be here and given these documents, I still don't know what I'm doing here. I'm data entry, not a bad ass agent like Romanoff or something.”

 

“The reason you are all here is because you were  h and picked for this mission, simply because you all have skills required for it.” Hill began, turning her attention away from Remy. “You will need to go over the documents in your folder and memorize them, because once we get you to the building, you will not be able to reference them. Agent Rumlow will  leading the strike team that will be on call for you should something go ugly.”

 

“Where is this taking place?” Another agent asked. Remy glanced at him, trying to remember his name.  He was only a few inches taller than  her , thin with pale skin and blonde hair. Remy was kind of reminded of  Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter movies, but she couldn't recall his name to save her life. Agent  James ? Johnson? It was something like that.

 

“You will be tasked with recovering  something stolen that is being kept in Seattle, Washington.” Agent Hill told him as she held up the blueprints of the building. “The building you are to infiltrate was built in 1903, and while it has been brought up to code for today's standards, there are still old walkways and rooms in here that will not show up on a modern blueprint of it.” Hill lifted up another picture. “This is  what you are retrieving. It is believed to be one of Howard Stark's inventions that was not recovered after an incident in the 1940's. While the SSR thought, at the time, that they had everything, even after Stark's confirmation, it is revealed that it wasn't the case. We don't know what the item is, but  we believe it to be dangerous, given that it  _is_ a Stark invention from that time period.”

 

“ And how are we to infiltrate this building?” A female agent –  a gorgeous dark skinned woman with black curly hair asked. It was taking everything in Remy's willpower not to stare at her. 

 

“It has retail space on the main floor with  hotel rooms above it.  The artifact is  likely to be in a room on the 5 th floor .” Hill said as she closed her file. “ The  person of interest is Nora Clark. She'll be staying in that room while she is here for some conference with her husband. You will need to retrieve the item from her in anyway possible, short of killing her. ”  Hill looked at the three of them. “It's possible she doesn't even realize what she has, but you need to treat this with caution, just in case. I don't need to say that you don't discuss this mission with anyone else, correct?”

 

They all agreed and Hill left at that. Remy stared down at the folder, studying the blueprints before her. It was of the  suite Nora Clark was staying in , which was a large suite with  two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and living room/dining room area.  It was pretty fancy, actually, and Remy wondered what sort of conference it was.

 

She turned to a third set of blueprints. This one was labeled '1903: Original Plan'.  It was the dimensions of the previous print, but there was some changes, such as demolition of the third bedroom  for the modern version , which Remy figured was turned into a modern master bedroom. As she studied the prints, she noticed what looked like a closet attached to the original third bedroom. It seemed to have a door. She grabbed the modern prints and compared the two. There was no mystery closet door on the modern print. It was odd to her. Sighing, she looked up, wondering if she should bring this to the attention of the other agents. 

 

Remy was kind of having second thoughts about this whole mission-thing.

 

The other agents chatted amongst themselves,  having left Remy out of the discussion while  Agent Jones/Johnson already seemed to elect himself the leader of the  three of them , coming up with some sort of plan for their attack. Remy glanced at Brock, who looked quite bored by the whole ordeal already. Biting down on her lip, Remy looked over at the  other two.

 

“Okay, so, I don't know  you two ,” She  began , gesturing to the  two of them . “ but m aybe we should introduce ourselves before we go all James Bond on this thing, okay?”

 

James/Johnson shrugged and looked at the other agent.  “Fine. I'm Agent  Henry Jameson. I've been here two years and have had seven successful retrieval missions  like this .” 

 

James , Johnson, Jameson. Close enough.  Remy knew she already disliked him, however. There was an incredible smugness about him that made her feel sick.

 

The other agent held up her hand.  Remy turned to look at her this time,  once again  taking in how beautiful this woman was. If Remy wasn't so infatuated with Clint, she would have been flirting with this agent.  “I'm Agent Sally Keller. Been here a year and a half. I normally do under cover work in other countries.”

 

Jameson looked like maybe he wanted to  say something, but Brock finally spoke. “I'm Agent Brock Rumlow. And that's all you really need to know.”

 

Sally and  Jameson turned to  Remy and she suddenly felt awkward. These  two had actual experience out there , and she was just a desk worker. Brock nudged her and she slapped her hand on the desk in surprise,  startled . “O-Okay, hi. Sorry, I'm Agent Remy Black. I've been with SHIELD for five years now and... this is my first mission.”

 

“ First mission without your S.O.?” Sally asked with a frown; Remy shook her head. “So... in a team then?”

 

“No, just in general.” Remy told them. “I do desk work, sometimes administrative. Right now I'm actually electronically archiving old SHIELD forms and reports.”

 

“So... why are you even here?”  Jameson asked rather rudely as he straightened up. “Not to state the obvious, but you're clearly not an operative.”

 

Remy blinked. “Well, obviously I'm not an operative since I just told you what my current job was.” She replied calmly. “However, clearly we all have something to contribute if we were all asked to be apart of this mission.” 

 

“ Then  I fail to see how you can contribute.”  Jameson shot back. 

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Remy asked, feigning innocence. She knew what he meant, though,  but she wanted him to say it. 

 

“Well, look at you. You aren't exactly in  any sort of shape  for an agent .  What use are you going to be? ”  Jameson said, looking smug.  “If we have to run away from danger, don't expect any of us to wait around for you.  You might be safe if you duck into a cupcake shop or something, though. ”

 

Before Remy could respond, Brock was on his feet and in  Jameson's face. The member of the strike team easily towered over the younger agent, who was doing his best not to cower under his glare.

 

“Brock.” Remy began, standing up.

 

Brock grabbed  Jameson by the front of his jacket, shoving the other agent into the wall.  Sally rolled her eyes, looking unimpressed by  it all. Remy just shook her head, looking kind of embarrassed.

 

“ Agent Black is well liked amongst her peers, understand?” Brock all but growled, glaring dangerously at the younger agent. “She might not have the physical experience you all have, but she is definitely useful in other things. However many missions you go on does not constitute a great agent.” He shoved  Jameson up against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him to the ground. 

 

Remy collected her file and gave them all a fake smile before exiting the conference room. Brock did the same, following after the other agent. He caught up with her just as the elevator door opened and stepped inside with her. He selected his floor, and Remy reached over to do the same. He caught her by the wrist and backed her up against the wall, looking down at her.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, the anger he had minutes earlier now gone. “That punk shouldn't have said that. I'm going to make sure he works out until he pukes this week.”

 

Remy removed herself from his grasp and slid around him, selecting her floor. “I'm okay, Brock. This isn't the first time this has happened.”

 

“ Still.” He grabbed her again, this time wrapping his arms around her as he looked into her eyes. “ I'll punch him if he says something like that again.”

 

“Well, you're sweet, Brock.” Remy told him, patting his arm awkwardly as she twisted herself out of his grasp again. “But that ship has sailed, and I've got my eyes on a new captain. I appreciate this rushing into save me thing, but I'll handle it next time, okay?”

 

Brock looked put out, but nodded. “Right, sorry. Won't... happen again.”

 


	5. Chapter Five

** C hapter Five **

 

Clint looked up when Remy entered the office. She was gone for only an hour, so obviously it wasn't a real serious meeting. He put away the files he had already typed up and spun his chair around to look at her. He was about to crack a joke about it, but when he saw how tense she was, he stopped.

 

“Wait, what happened?” He asked, frowning. Remy looked up at him as she placed the file into her purse. “ Remy, what's wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” Was her reply as she took a seat, spinning around to face her computer.

 

“Something happened.” It wasn't a question. Remy sighed and spun her chair to face him. “Remy, what happened?”

 

“Fine.” She said, looking tired. “I was called to a meeting, listened to said meeting, and then another agent basically tried to embarrass me about my size.” Remy sighed and sat back in her seat. “I mean, this was not the first time this happened, but it was still embarrassing for him to do it in front of  Brock and Agent Keller like that.”

 

Clint looked stunned by this. “Who the hell was he? I'll kick his ass.”

 

“Aw, you're sweet.” Remy  said with a slight grin. “Brock already put the fear of God into him, however.”

 

“Agent Rumlow was there?”

 

“Mhm. He was. Pretty sure that agent wet himself after Brock was done.”  She replied, shrugging. Clint frowned.

 

“What the hell was the meeting about?” Clint asked,  trying to steer the conversation away from the subject of her ex . Remy shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

 

“Technically I can't tell you.” She told him. “But I get to go on my first mission in a few weeks, and that is all I'm saying about it.”

 

“ But... you're not that kind of agent.”

 

“Thank you. That's been pointed out to me already.”

 

Clint frowned and looked at all the boxes that were still surrounding them in the office. “What about me? What about all this work? Are they bringing someone different while you're gone, or is this a permanent thing? Because if it is, I'm sure as hell not working with someone new on this.  I'll fuckin' walk out. ” 

 

Remy shrugged as she looked at the boxes as well. “Who knows. Hill didn't tell me, but I'm not leaving for a few weeks,  so I think you'll be okay . And even then, I don't think the mission is a long one. A few days? Then I'll come back and you can throw crumpled bits of paper at me again.”

 

Pouting, Clint swiveled his chair to face his computer screen. “I guess. Throw in a night to the bar and I'll be good to whoever is your temporary replacement.”

 

“I suppose that would be fine,  but I'll only pay for two drinks.” Remy told him, a small smile on her face. “Let's plan for...  next  Friday?  I got stuff to do this weekend and I gotta be not so shit-faced.”

 

Clint shrugged a bit. “Yea, I guess that would work.” He replied with a glance at the computer's clock. “Hey, let's get lunch. I'm starving, and I bet you are too, 'cause you didn't eat your doughnut so I took it.”

 

She rolled her eyes but stood back up, grabbing her purse. “Shall we then?”

 

* * *

 

 

They went back to the diner they ate at earlier in the week. It was convenient and delicious, not to mention pretty cheap for the most part. They took a seat in the same booth as before, looking over the menu. Clint already decided on  a burger, but decided to skim the menu anyways. Remy seemed to be concentrating hard on her menu, a frown on her face as she studied it.

 

“You know you're not going to be quizzed on the menu, right?” Clint teased as he set his menu down. She looked up sheepishly, setting her menu down  on top of his .

 

“I know, sorry. I'm just thinking of the mission...” She sighed. Clint held his hands up.

 

“Stop, you said you can't talk about it, so don't talk about it.”  He told her, shaking his head. “Don't bring it up with me or anyone else. Don't over think what may or may not happen. Just study up on whatever Hill gave you and go from there. I bet this mission isn't even that bad, and it will be a breeze. And you will probably end up loving this kind of stuff and ditch the desk and chair for some real adventure.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yea, right. I'll stick to desk work.”

 

The waiter came over and took their orders. Remy stalled for a moment before finally giving hers, as she had not been fully prepared. She ordered her usual before settling back into the booth, looking across the table at Clint.  The scratches on his face were almost gone, leaving only very faint scabbing. He was still in pain from his dislocated shoulder and broken arm, but he was moving it around a bit more. And he didn't look so grumpy as he had been the first week, which was a huge improvement.

 

Clint caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

 

“Oh? What? No, not at all.”  She shook her head. “Just wanted to stare at you for a moment, you know. Gotta work on them agent skills of knowing how people's faces are or something.”

 

“And what about that photographic memory of yours?” He asked jokingly. “Can't you just glance at me  once and remember my beautiful face for years to come?”

 

“ Oh my god, I'm going to kill Agent Davis for ever telling you that.” She groaned. “I really do have a good memory. And yea, I really can recall every detail of the first time we met, but it's not like my brain is full of intense secrets and shit from all SHIELD's files that I've looked over.” Remy took a sip of her water. “Anyways, let's not talk shop, but I don't know what else to talk about besides talking shop.”

 

“Soccer?” Clint proposed with a shrug. “You like soccer, don't you? I've watched you on our lunch break s , obsessively looking at your team's stats and schedule on your phone.”  He frowned. “What the hell is a Sounder?  And I have never watched a game in my life, really, but the point is to get the ball into the other team's goal, right?”

 

Remy's eyes lit up and she tried to contain her excitement as she bounced a bit in her seat. “Yes, soccer. I love soccer, probably a little too much, but you've never seen a match? Ever?” Clint shook his head. “Okay, what are you doing tomorrow?”

 

“Well, it's Saturday... so sleeping.”

 

“No, you're going to come over to my place and watch the Sounders play.”

 

“Okay, but what the hell is a Sounder? Where are they from?”  Clint asked, wondering if he was going to regret this. “Isn't there some team here in D.C.?  And I thought you were busy this weekend so you didn't want to get shit-faced?”

 

“Oh my god, Clint, babe, okay, give me a minute.” She reached across the table and took hold of his uninjured hand. “Let me bask in this for a minute. You want me to tell you about soccer and it's going to take every fiber of my being not to scare you off with my love for the sport.”  She squeezed his hand once for good measure. “And the match is the reason I don't plan to get shit-faced.” 

 

“You're starting to scare me right now.”

 

“Shut up.” She grinned and let go of his hand, leaning back in her seat. “Okay, so you are right. The idea is to get the ball into the opposing team's goal. Each match has two 45 minute halves, making the match roughly 90 minutes, unless they add stoppage time because of fouls and injuries or the players were dicking around.” Remy gave the waiter a smile when he returned with their food and drinks. When he was gone, she looked back at Clint, who was already pouring ketchup all over his fries. “That's gross. Anyways, the Sounders are part of the western conference and have been around for a few years. They are based in Seattle, Washington, and their name comes from the fact that Seattle is right on the Puget Sound, which eventually goes out around the horn of Washin g ton and into the Pacific Ocean.”

 

Clint stared at her, a french fry raised up and almost to his mouth. He shook his head and took a bite of the fry. “You are such a nerd.”

 

“ Shut up.” She repeated, still grinning as she took a bite from her burger. “They have a match tomorrow at 5:30 Pacific time, so that would be... 8:30 our time. You up for it?”

 

“In the  _morning_ ?” Clint asked, looking horrified. “ Weren't you the one who dumped someone over the idea of exercising that early?”

 

Remy took a moment to register what he was saying. “Oh, oh! No, evening.”  She assured him before throwing a french fry at him. “And yes, I did break up with him over the need for early morning exercise, whatever.”  She took a bite of her own fry. “And anyways, 8:30 in the morning isn't that early compared to like, six am for fuckin' weight lifting.”

 

“ Thank god.” Clint said as he took a bite of his burger. “I knew you were crazy, but I didn't think you were crazy enough to wake up that early for soccer.” 

 

“ Oh, babe, you have no idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they returned to the office almost two hours later, there was a new folder on Remy's desk. The wor d CLASSIFIED was stamped across it, so she hastily shoved it into her purse  with the other file . She would look it over back at her apartment, where she could start to really understand the mission.  While Remy trusted Clint and knew he wouldn't snoop, she knew she didn't want to take the chance of any other agent seeing the details. 

 

There was also an email from Fury in response to her request about a new office. All it said was that he'd think about it and get back to her. Rolling her eyes, she closed out of her email and pulled up the data program. Clint was already typing away at his own computer, grumbling to himself when he would repeatedly hit the backspace to fix an error he made. Once he got back into his groove, however, Clint was fine, typing away and sometimes singing softly to himself. Remy didn't realize how much she'd miss being confined in this room with him until just now.

 

In a little over two weeks, she would be shipped out to Seattle for some recovery mission, and she had no idea what to expect or how long it would take, but she knew she would miss working with Clint. Hell, she was half tempted to email Hill and beg for someone else to take over her position just so she could stay in this cramped, box filled office with Clint because she wanted to continue to flirt with him and spend time with him.

 

But that was selfish and would set her back. While Remy never expected to advance far in SHIELD, she thought that if opportunities like this came up,  then maybe she should jump on the chance to expand her experience with the agency. And while she would definitely miss being in Clint's presence, it might be good for her to work with new agents in a different setting, just so she could get a feel for what else was out there in SHIELD.

 

She looked over at Clint, who was now bobbing his head to some song in his head as he typed away one handed, his busted arm resting comfortably against his stomach. Remy rolled her eyes and crumbled up a post-it note before throwing it at him, smiling triumphantly as it bounced off the back of his head.

 

“Dammit, woman,  you threw off my groove!”

 

“ Totally worth it.”

 

 


End file.
